


Slow Speed

by rosewindow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosewindow/pseuds/rosewindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was Sunday afternoon. He and Stiles had been working all weekend to make sure his Alpha control was solid, but Scott couldn't focus. There was something itching at his nose, a smell he knew, but couldn't find a name for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slow Speed

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the International Code of Signals meaning for the Alpha flag which is: I have a diver down; keep well clear at slow speed.

Scott actually felt sort of bad about all the times he’d thought Derek was a shitty Alpha. Only a little though, because Derek actually was a shitty Alpha. But it turned out this Alpha thing was harder than it looked. Before, he'd had to focus to bring his wolf-self to the front of his mind to use its senses and instincts. His human brain kept insisting that he shouldn't be able to smell or hear or know that, and so therefore, he didn't. Now though, oh god, now it was always there; shimmering just under the surface of his skin like he was made of coals. Maybe that was part of why Alpha's eyes were red. It felt good too, like the first breath he'd taken as a werewolf, deep and clean and invigorating. And the power, God. By beating Derek, he'd gained his Betas. Scott could feel the strength of Isaac, and Erica, and Boyd, and Cora, as well as Derek, and even Peter. There was Allison and Stiles of course, and a strange, heavy feeling that he was pretty sure was Deaton's help and alliance, and Lydia was in there too, twisted a bit by the parts of her that made her immune to the bite, but still there. The power flooding his veins was like a continuous adrenaline high. Keeping all of that contained felt like an impossible task.

It was Sunday afternoon. He and Stiles had been working all weekend to make sure his control was solid, but Scott couldn't focus. There was something itching at his nose, a smell he knew, but couldn't find a name for. Scott inhaled deeply and closed his eyes, trying to follow the scent. He heard Stiles on the other side of the clearing, sighing in irritation, as clearly as if his friend had been standing right next to him. Stiles tapped his foot, and Scott turned towards the crunching of the fallen leaves. He could smell the dry paper and decay scent of them, the hint of damp earth underneath from last year's leaf fall, and, oh. The scent was coming from over there.

He stalked closer, amazed by how much more quietly he was able to move. The scent was like a trail now, shifting on the gentle breeze, getting sharper or more distant as it was caught by cross breezes and other more powerful scents. The smell of Stiles was growing too; deodorant and shampoo and grass and laundry detergent and something less definable that was the Stilinski household. The mystery scent was mixed in there too, and before Scott had entirely realized what he was doing, he was on his knees, eyes still closed, pressing his nose into a patch of shirt fabric over Stiles's left hip. This close, there was no mistaking the scent. It was one that even Scott's human nose knew well, though Stiles smelled different from him - sharper, but with rich undertones.

"Uh," said Stiles. His heartbeat was picking up, but every muscle was still. Not exactly tensed, but clearly being held in check.

"You came on this shirt," Scott said, rubbing his nose over the spot in question. "Right here. A few days ago."

"Oh, uh..." Stiles's scent was getting warmer with the faintest hint of iron. Scott knew without looking up that Stiles was blushing. "Just relieving some stress before the big fight. Couldn't find a tissue. I forgot. Sorry does it, uh, bother you?"

Scott wanted to lick the spot. Would Stiles think that was weird?

"Uh, did you know you asked that out loud?" Stiles asked, and Scott froze. "It’s a little weird-" Scott immediately started to pull away, but Stiles touched two fingers tentatively to Scott's temple. "-but it would be okay by me."

Scott whined and pressed the flat of his tongue against the fabric. The salty taste of come was layered over the warm, dry, cottony taste of Stiles's shirt, and they mixed together a bit where it had soaked into the fabric. Scott lapped and sucked until he couldn't taste the come anymore, just damp fabric.

Stiles's heartbeat had skyrocketed and his scent had brightened. The low level of arousal that was pretty much a constant thing was more obvious. His breath was harsher, and Scott could feel his muscles trembling under the hands he’d set on the outside of Stiles’s thighs. Scott turned his head to the left, scraping his nose across Stiles’s hip and Stiles shuddered. Scott shuddered too when he inhaled and could smell the fresh scent of precome through layers of denim and cotton.

“It’s broad daylight,” Stiles said warningly, when Scott placed his open mouth over the growing bulge.

“I’ll hear anyone coming,” Scott insisted, huffing out a hot breath and enjoying the way Stiles squirmed.

“Yeah, forgive me for doubting your ability to focus right now, Scott. We’re supposed to be working on your control, which obviously needs work since you’ve gotten so distracted.”

Scott purred. “Isn’t this more fun?”

“Not the point,” Stiles groaned. “C’mon dude, you’ve got Alpha powers now and unless there are Allison developments you haven’t told me about, you’ve got no anchor. Sorry I’m a little concerned that you’ll wolf out in math class.”

“‘ve got an anchor,” Scott slurred, rubbing his cheek against the waistband of Stiles’s jeans. His shirt had ridden up a tiny bit and the contrast between the rough denim, the soft cotton, the smooth skin, and the prickly hair on his stomach was enthralling.

Stiles froze again. “What?” He pushed Scott’s face off of him, and Scott went willingly but sadly. “Who’s your anchor?”

“You. Obviously,” said Scott, leaning forward again.

Stiles moved his hands to curl around Scott’s jaw and held him still. “You know we need to talk about this. Since when?”

Scott shrugged. “I don’t know, since always? Look, I’m focused now, right? In control?”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Stiles muttered. “You aren’t exactly acting like yourself.”

“You want this,” Scott insisted, though there was a bit of a question in it.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m a seventeen year old boy, of course I want it, but I don’t want it if it’s not really you.”

Scott dropped his hands from Stiles’s legs and settled back on his heels. “What do you mean ‘not really me’?”

“I just- I thought you’d be all ‘grr must assert my Alpha-ness.’”

Scott chuckled. “The type of werewolf I am doesn’t have anything to do with what I like to do in bed.”

“No, I guess you’re right. Wait, really? Are you saying- do you mean you and Allison- no, I don’t wanna know- really?”

Scott nodded.

“Oh. So that time I handcuffed you to the radiator…”

The scent of arousal around Stiles had lessened for a while, but it came back stronger than ever. Scott inhaled deeply, smiling. He leaned into Stiles’s hand as he ran it up from Scott’s jaw into his hair. His breathing had gone shallow, and his eyes were steely.

“You liked it as much as I did, didn’t you?” Scott growled. “You like controlling me; like that I do what you say, even though I don’t have to. Even though you’re part of _my_ Pack.” Scott groaned and tilted his head back into Stiles’s grasping hand.

“O Captain, my Captain,” Stiles murmured, fingers clenching at the nape of Scott’s neck.

The sensation tingled down Scott’s spine and straight to his dick. He’d been half hard since he’d gone to his knees, and the look in Stiles’s eyes was enough to make sure he was at full hardness. He whimpered at the feel of his boxer seams pressing against hot flesh. They’d barely touched and Scott was about ready to come. Stiles moved his other hand down so it was splayed across his chest from throat to heart. He shuddered, and Scott felt it through his whole body.

“I’m close,” he gasped, breathing hard, eyes fluttering closed. “Please. Please, Stiles.”

“Look at me,” Stiles whispered.

Scott opened his eyes and dragged them up Stiles’s chest. When their eyes met, Scott came with a shiver, and collapsed forward against Stiles.

Stiles stroked a hand through his hair and Scott slowed his breathing down until they were in sync.

“Do you want-” Scott asked, moving his mouth over Stiles’s crotch and looking up at him through his lashes.

Stiles shook his head and hooked his fingers under Scott’s jaw to pull him to his feet. “Feeling better?”

Scott leaned close and nodded into Stiles’s throat. “I told you,” he murmured, “You’re my anchor.”

The Alpha powers were still a little overwhelming - he could smell everything within a hundred yards and hear everything within a half mile - but his head felt clearer. Maybe he could get a grip on this Alpha thing after all, with a little help.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr too. (rosewindow)


End file.
